Hello, fancy meeting you here! Welcome to my newest fic, and enjoy the ride. This is a Harry Potter Fanfic, but has nothing to do with any of the characters from the Harry Potter series. This story uses completely different, new, unique characters that I have created, and tells about THEIR story in the very same wizarding world that we have all come to love. This prologue has nothing much to do with the early parts of the story, so don't let this odd little snippet turn you away. There will be Hogwarts, and wands, and owls, and all that other stuff that we all associate with Harry Potter - but remember, Harry Potter and co. never even existed in my story. Updates about once every week, fluctuating based on how much homework i have. See you around,

Your ever so humble writer,
Happyface


"Dodders, hand me my towel," commanded a tall, thin man standing over a gleaming white sink, his face dripping.

"Right away, sire." A slight, hunched figure scurried toward his master, clenching a thick, fuzzy looking towel in his bony fist. The tall man swiped the towel straightaway from his trembling servant, and proceeded to dry himself.

His face enfolded in the fluffy cloth, the man's voice came out muffled, as he said, "Are the preparations finished, Dodders?"

"Yes sire, most definitely ready, sire, all finished," bumbled Dodders, now hanging up the rather damp towel on a gold bar protruding from the shiny marble of the wall, surrounded by portraits of pompous looking men dressed in expensive suits.

"That was a yes or no question, Dodders," sighed his master, pulling an ivory comb from within the fold of his blue velvet robe, "and did not require reassurance, nor three different ways of saying 'yes.'

"Of course sire, sorry sire, won't happen again," replied the small servant hastily.

"Too late," muttered the robed man, finishing the careful grooming of his hair and placing the comb beside him on the shining vanity.

Dodders mumbled under his breath as he backed out of the room, tripping over his own feet along the way.

Alone at last, the man in the blue velvet robe, with the immaculately placed hair – dark, straight, and black – turned his eyes slowly to the mirror in front of him. His piercing, sapphire-blue eyes stared out at him; flat, perfect eyebrows perched atop, like birds of prey poised to attack. A pointed nose led down to his mouth – a hard, thin line, cold lips pressed firmly together. He stood like that, staring at himself in the mirror, as if it were a different person, for a long, long time.

Suddenly the eyes softened, the birds of prey pulled back, the mouth slackened, and a great sigh escaped those guarded lips. "What have you gotten yourself into, Maldagra?" The words were little more than a whisper, a plea to no one in particular, save perhaps himself.

He thought back to when it had all started, the one foolish act that had dragged him into the whole mess. Back when he was innocent. Back when he was but a child, before his life had been changed forever. Before he had found out about magic. Or, more accurately, before magic had found out about him.